


At Last Broke Silence, And The Ice

by AdmirableMonster (Mertiya)



Series: All About Your Heart Verse [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Angst, But He Gets Better, Family Vacation, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Maedhros, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, how even did turgon/mags happen, turgon is kind of a shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:32:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27915310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/AdmirableMonster
Summary: Turgon doesn't see why his brother needs to bring his significant other along on their family vacation to begin with.  And he CERTAINLY doesn't see why said significant other's little brother gets to come, too.  Tensions rise rapidly and culminate in a potentially serious accident on the nearby frozen lake.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno & Turgon of Gondolin, Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Maedhros | Maitimo & Maglor | Makalaurë, Maglor | Makalaurë/Turgon of Gondolin
Series: All About Your Heart Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044087
Comments: 17
Kudos: 37





	At Last Broke Silence, And The Ice

**Author's Note:**

> so I kind of wanted to give Turgon a chance to have the spotlight, since all he did in the last fic was exist as the "villain" and he's not really a terrible person, he just...kind of Makes Bad Choices sometimes.
> 
> he's still kind of a shit in this fic but I feel like we get a chance to see into his head a little more and understand where he's coming from--and I do think he gets better. also, Maglor/Turgon? happened? for some reason?
> 
> with thanks to half the redbook server for helping me out with various plot points
> 
> particular thanks to 8lottie8 for title help; title from "Hudibras" by Samuel Butler
> 
> EDIT: forgot to thank bettashark for the Feanorian last name, which is a Japanese swordsmith because the Feanorions are half-Japanese half-Jewish in this one

Turgon stares moodily out of the window at the falling snow.In the back of the car, Aredhel is sitting between Fingon and Maedhros, apparently totally absorbed in _Breath of the Wild_ , occasionally getting pointers from Turgon’s brother or his significant other, who is—Turgon squints at the red ponytail and the puffy marshmallow coat over a skirt and tights.He can’t see the pronouns pin but _probably_ it’s a she/her day.Maybe he should have checked with Maedhros arrived, but he was too busy sulking.Bad enough that Fingon is _bringing_ said significant other along on a family holiday, but then there is the fact that said significant other’s little brother’s holiday plans fell through at the last minute.Why Mom and Dad said that they could fit someone else at the holiday cabin Fingon does not know.He begrudges it.He begrudges it even _more_ because somehow Little Brother conned Turgon’s parents into letting _him_ drive the kids’ car.“As a thank you,” Turgon’s _ass_.He just wants to show off.

As if he’s overheard Turgon’s thoughts and is just _trying_ to be bitchy, Maglor reaches over and changes the channel on the car radio from something inoffensive and vaguely pop-like to—

“God, is that opera?”

“The Ring Cycle.”Maglor flashes him a cheerful grin as if Turgon weren’t contemplating his brutal dismemberment.

“Can you not?”

“Helps me stay awake.How much longer do we have to go, can you check?”

With very poor grace, Turgon checks his phone.“Like two hours,” he says, then sinks down into his seat and wishes he had earplugs.It’s going to be a long damn drive. 

* * *

When they get to the cabin, Mom and Dad haven’t arrived yet.They probably stopped for lunch along the way.Turgon rushes to his room to unpack, then hears voices in the hallway.“Hey, can Mags share with you?” Fingon asks breathlessly, popping his head into the room, and Turgon glares at him. _No_ , he wants to say, point blank, _I’m not going to share my room with a Fëanorion.Especially not that Fëanorion._ Turgon’s room is perfect and orderly.He keeps his favorite sword—the one Fingon got for him at a Renaissance Faire freshman year of high school—hanging over the desk.Around the room he has arranged neat family photos and his awards, starting from the spelling bee he won when he was ten and going up to his Valedictorian award from high school.(Aredhel and Fingon tease him that he’s already a forty-year-old accountant.Turgon resents this.)The point is: his room has an _order_ to it, and it is an order that Maglor will immediately destroy by his very _presence._

Before Turgon can tell him absolutely definitely _not_ , Maglor Fëanorion appears behind him, tossing his long black hair.Because clearly it was a rhetorical question.Why should Fingon care what Turgon wants, anyway?Turgon grunts in irritation and throws his duffel bag onto the bed.“He’ll have to sleep in the pull-out part of the bed.”

“Fair,” Maglor tells him.“I know I was a sudden addition to the party.Thanks for not making me sleep on that awful couch at the base of Fin’s bed.”

As if that had been an option.Turgon breathes in to make a withering remark, but before he has the chance, Aredhel’s voice calls out, “Come on, let’s go for a hike!Come _on_ , everyone!”And the moment is lost.Maglor drops his own bag by the bed, and he and Fingon head out.Turgon glares after them for a minute before following.

When Aredhel excitedly suggests they take a long walk round the lake, Turgon _almost_ stays behind to sulk, but in the end, he doesn’t do it, because five hours in a car has left him just as restless as anyone.Still, he walks a good five feet back from the rest of the group, not making eye contact with anyone, as they trudge happily through the snow.Aredhel races ahead, and Maedhros and Fingon stroll quickly after her, hand-in-hand.Turgon stews.It should be _him_ walking beside Fingon.They were best friends until Maedhros came along.

Of course, Maglor chooses this moment to drop back in step with him.“Hey,” he says cheerfully.

Turgon grunts.

“Stunning conversation,” Maglor tells him, with a twinkle in his eye.He’s _unfairly_ good-looking, in a much smaller, lither way than his big sibling.Turgon hates him, hates his smug face and his smug voice and the way he’s _smiling_ at Turgon, as if Turgon weren’t exuding the doom of ages right now.

“I don’t need to chatter every minute of the day, unlike some people,” Turgon finally says, even though it makes him sound about six years old.

Maglor hums.“If you disapprove of my conversation, shall I sing for you?”

“ _No_.”

“I’ll have you know that I sing very well.”

Making a noise that even he is forced to admit is somewhat undignified, Turgon hurries to catch up with the two older siblings.“Hey!” Maglor says.“Wait!” 

Turgon does not wait.He stomps up beside Maedhros and Fingon, kicking at some of the snow to relieve his feelings.He kicks a little too hard and sprays a good chunk of it onto Maedhros’s coat.

“Oh, for—”At least Fingon is paying attention to him now, although with his dark eyes flashing like that it’s not a _good_ kind of attention.Fingon rarely gets angry, but when he does, it has a tendency to be spectacular.He grabs Turgon’s elbow and pulls him sideways, saying in a low, furious voice, “Can you maybe try to act like you’re a grown-up instead of a freaking toddler, Turno?”

Turgon can already feel a hot blush rising to his cheeks.The Fëanorions are _watching_ ; it doesn’t matter how quiet Fingon is being.They’re both seeing him being dressed-down like a child.

“Fin,” he says through gritted teeth.“Fin, come on, all I did was—”

“You’ve been _awful_ to Maedhros the _entire time_ we’ve been dating!” Fingon snarls, low and sharp.“No.Before then.You told Russ that I was aroace _without my consent_ , which, by the way, wasn’t even _true—_ ”

“Obviously,” Turgon snips, instead of trying to retort that he had _thought_ he was telling the truth, all right, there is a lot of terminology and he knows he screwed up, but he was trying to be helpful!Mostly, anyway, maybe there was an admixture in there of anger at Maedhros for trying to take away Fin, but he’s _almost sure_ that’s not what his motivation was.

“God, you’re impossible.”Fingon runs both hands through his hair, and it makes the golden ribbons he’s taken to wearing tied into his braids sparkle in the sunlight.“Seriously, Turgon, what is _wrong_ with you?”

“He’s not _good_ enough for you!”

There’s a dangerous light in Fingon’s eyes.“ _She_.And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“She,” Turgon corrects himself angrily, because he didn’t _mean_ to misgender Maedhros—he’s just not _used_ to the fluid thing yet, and that’s not the point; he’s so tired of the way the Fëanorions turn him into the goddamn villain in his own family.“And it means exactly what I said, Fingon, Maedhros Fëanorion does not deserve you, she—”

He thinks Fingon is going to hit him.Fin hasn’t hit him since they were kids, and usually that was just slug-bug-no-slugs-back.But there’s just pure rage flashing in his brother’s eyes, and in that instant Turgon almost feels like he might deserve to be hit, even though it’s not his fault, it’s not, it can’t be, it’s, “And now you’ve got hi—her and her little brother along on a family vacation!” Turgon blurts out.“What happened to family, Fin?Don’t we _matter_ to you anymore?”

Fingon does not hit him.He clenches his fists at his sides.“Go back to the cabin, Turgon,” he says, in a voice that’s low and deadly calm.“I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“I don’t care!”Turgon is aware that his voice is rising, and that he’s also probably nearing tears—which is _awful_ , because he Turgon never cries until he does, and when that dam breaks, he can’t stop.And that will make him look even worse.He feels trapped in the villain’s corner and all he can do is cling to his remaining dignity even if the shreds of it are being ripped out of his hands.

“Well, I care.So go back to the _fucking_ cabin and _maybe_ I won’t ask Mom and Dad to drive you right back home again!” yells Fingon at the top of his lungs.So much for being quiet.

“Fuck you!” Turgon yells right back, forgetting about that last shred of dignity.“I’m not going back!” He turns arbitrarily to the left and doesn’t quite stomp off; he’s trying too hard not to cry to do anything more than walk quickly.

“Turno, _stop,_ come _back_!”The anger has dropped right out of Fingon’s voice, somehow.

Turgon hears, of a sudden, the shifting creak beneath his feet of ice.Not of solid ground, and he looks back in sudden horror, freezing as he realizes that he’s found the lake—and he doesn’t know how far onto it he’s walked without paying attention.

“Fin! _No_!”That is Maedhros’s voice, because Fingon has broken away from the other three and is running towards Turgon, waving his arms for Turgon to stop, but what he doesn’t realize is that Turgon is _already_ on the lake—how far out?—and it’s only as Turgon realizes what that _means_ , that Fingon could already be treading on dangerous ground without knowing it—that there’s a terrible cracking noise like a gunshot, and Fingon yells in surprise and disappears.

It’s like a nightmare.It’s like Turgon’s feet are frozen to the ground, his lungs frozen in mid-breath.He can’t _move_.He can’t breathe.He can’t—this can’t be happening.This can’t be happening.

“Russ!” screams Maglor, his voice gone thin and high, because now Maedhros is running too, towards the spot where Fingon disappeared.Turgon can do nothing but wait and watch in mute terror as Maedhros pauses at the edge of the lake, then goes down on her belly and starts to squirm across the groaning, grinding ice.It seems to take forever, as if each minute motion is a year, with the ice ready to fall out from under her elbows.But she just keeps going, her face grim and pale and set, even as Turgon stands there, frozen beneath the impossibility of his horror.

The ice gives underneath her, and Turgon gasps cold air and coughs as Maedhros slides forward, scrabbling against the breaking up of the chunks of ice.Fingon’s dark head appears in the choppy water, and Maedhros reaches out with one long arm and grabs him by the hair, towing him grimly backwards.It takes forever, because Maedhros is still moving with incredible care, wriggling backwards along the ice even as it fails beneath her.Turgon’s face is freezing, and he realizes there are tears streaming down it, catching in his lashes and turning to frost.

Finally, finally, Maedhros reaches something solid and goes up on her knees to get Fingon into her arms.He doesn’t look conscious.He doesn’t—he doesn’t look alive. 

“Turgon,” Maedhros says, her voice flat and devoid of emotion.“Get on your stomach and come back here.Go around the broken part.Do you understand?”

How is she calm?How can she be calm when she’s holding his brother’s _body_ —oh _God_ Turgon has killed his brother—he’s—“ _Fin_ —” he sobs.

“He’s hypothermic,” Maedhros says, still in that deathly calm tone of voice.“Which is why you need to come back now, unless you want to stay out there on that lake while we get him back to the cabin.”

“Turgon!” begs Aredhel from the shore.She’s wringing her hands.

He can’t stay here.Numbly, he goes down on his stomach and starts making his way back across the ice, which is making unpleasant straining noises beneath him.It occurs to him foggily that if it breaks beneath him, _he’s_ going to die, because no one is going to come for him.Because this is his fault.It’s all his fault. 

A large, steady hand reaches out to grab his shoulder and drag him onto shore.“Get up,” Maedhros says, still in that terribly emotionless voice.Turgon staggers to his feet.

“Oh god, Russ, I don’t have reception,” Maglor babbles.“There’s literally no reception out here, we can’t call 911, I don’t—”

“Mags, calm down,” Maedhros says steadily.She looks from Turgon to Maglor.“Do you two think you can run?”

Maglor gulps and nods; Turgon doesn’t know, but if it’s important, he’s got to try, doesn’t he?Only _Fin_ is the runner of the family, and he—and he—Turgon nods anyway.

“Good.Then what I want you to do is run back to the cabin, both of you.As fast as you can.If you can get reception there, call 911.If you can’t, drive back to the town—you remember how to get there?”

Turgon nods again.“We’ll find it,” he says hoarsely.His own voice sounds distant and quiet to his own ears.

“You drive back until you get reception and then you call 911 and explain what’s happened,” Maedhros continued.“Do you understand?”

“Yes, Russ,” Maglor says.

“Yes,” Turgon agrees faintly.

“Good.Hurry, please.”

How did she have time to say _please_ , Turgon wonders in some horror, as he sets off running?How, how, how is she so calm?Oh, god—oh, god—he’s crying as he runs.

“It’s okay,” Maglor says between ragged breaths.“Russ knows what she’s doing.Fin’s going to be fine, you’ll see.”

Turgon wishes he knew how to have that kind of faith.

* * *

This really isn’t how Maglor envisioned his holiday.Okay, based on Turgon’s behavior he was expecting a headache, at least until his sibling’s boyfriend’s brother warmed up to him—Maglor can be very persuasive when he wants to be, and he’d rather make love than war any day—but this is a little beyond that.He’s trying very hard to focus on driving as fast as he can while still being safe about it.It’s difficult with Turgon sobbing and muttering to himself in the passenger seat.

“Turgon,” Maglor says tightly.“It’s going to be fine.Russ has it well in hand.”

“I killed him,” sobs Turgon.“I killed my brother, I—oh, god—”

“He’s going to be fine,” Maglor responds, shifting into second gear as they hit a bridge.Bridges scare him now—not as much as Russ, but his sibling isn’t the only one who has nightmares.“Russ got him out of the water, and it’s not like he wasn’t breathing, and now we’re going to get help.He will be _fine_.”

“And it’s your fault, too!” Turgon says, somewhat hysterically.

“ _My_ fault?” Maglor almost takes his eyes off the road to stare.“Okay, you’re going to have to explain the logic on that one.”

“If you weren’t here,” Turgon hiccups, “none of this would have happened.Having Russ here—okay—I get it, but, what, is Fin trying to replace _me_?”

“Oh, my god,” Maglor says tiredly.They’re maybe another ten minutes away from getting reception.He’s so maxed out on emotional bullshit from the past few days—so fucking fried—that he’s moved beyond emotions into a kind of vaguely unpleasant grey exhaustion.“He was being nice because I just got dumped. “

“He put you in my _room_!”

“I don’t have to stay there!I thought you were okay with it!”

“Why would I be okay with sharing my _room_?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t _assume_ you would be, I figured if you had a problem with it you’d _just say so_!”

Turgon lapses into a moody silence at that, to Maglor’s relief.He stifles his impulse to follow up with some other snippy remark, because Turgon must still be desperately worried, and despite the fact that he’s been a total shithead for the past day, he does kind of have a point about Maglor tagging along.It’s not Maglor’s fault—but it’s not Turgon’s either; it’s just one of those really unpleasant things.That’s why they call them “accidents,” Maglor thinks to himself.It—may be worth saying that out loud, actually.

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” he says gently.

Turgon makes a choking noise.“What do you mean?” he asks, sounding urgent and terrified.“It’s totally and completely my fault—I mean—you were just _saying_ it was!”

“No, I was saying that it _wasn’t_ my fault,” Maglor sighs.“Because it wasn’t anyone’s fault.That’s why they call them ‘accidents’.”He maybe should be annoyed, but he can’t find it in him.It’s not like Russ hasn’t spent hours talking him through this exact logical fallacy.“It’s not your fault, Turgon.”

There’s a sniff and a sigh.“Don’t start being nice to me now,” Turgon says stiffly.“I still hate you.”

Maglor restrains himself from rolling his eyes while he’s driving.“Cool, the feeling’s mutual.”

They sit in silence again for a couple minutes before Turgon says in a low voice, “I’m sorry.I don’t hate you.”

“And I’m sorry for tagging along on your family holiday,” Maglor tells him wearily.“That wasn’t my best idea.I just didn’t want to be alone over this break.”

It’s only two minutes later that Turgon announces he has reception, and Maglor pulls over hurriedly in a gas station parking lot because he doesn’t want to know what Turgon will say to the 911 operator.“Just let me do it,” he tells Turgon, and Turgon’s mouth thins into a flat line, but he sits back, arms crossed, and lets Maglor give the information.Good thing Maglor drove them here; he’s not sure he would know the cabin’s address otherwise.

After he hangs up the call, Maglor rests his head on the steering wheel.“We should probably not go back yet,” he says.“Just because we don’t want to get in the way.I’ll text Russ, though, so he—no, fuck.Right.”

“He’ll text us, right?When they’re sure—”

“He’s fine,” Maglor tells Turgon.“Or—he’s going to be.He was breathing when Russ got him out.It’s not like he was under that long.” _Was he breathing_ , the 911 operator had asked.The image that presented to Maglor made him shudder, and he was glad again he hadn’t let Turgon call.“Let’s get donuts and coffee,” he says abruptly.“Come on.We could use the pick-me-up.”

Turgon looks down at his hands.Maglor rolls his eyes in preparation for a long argument, but instead he gets a curt nod and “okay.”

* * *

Fingon isn’t sure if he’s cold or warm.The last thing he remembers is running after Turgon and then—nothing.What happened?He tries to move, and his elbow hits soft flesh.

“Oof,” Maedhros says from behind him.“Fin?Are you awake?”

She sounds — weird.This whole thing is weird.And he’s not even sure if he knows the answer to what should be a simple question.His brain feels muzzy and mixed up, and his body feels—heavy.Off.

“Think so?” he manages.His lips are prickling.So are his fingers and toes.“Where—are we?”

“Back in the cabin,” Maedhros tells him, and that’s when he notices that her arms are wrapped around his chest, and she’s tucked them both up in a pair of heavy quilts.He can see the corner of his desk from here, so they’re in his bed. 

“What…?” Fingon croaks.Maedhros is warm against his back, and his fingers and toes are almost hot.“Ugh, I’m too hot.”

“Good.No, don’t get up.Just stay there.”

“What’s going on?”His eyelids are so heavy.He feels like he woke up halfway through a REM cycle.

There’s a minute pause before Russ speaks.“You fell through the ice,” she says, in clipped, precise tones.“I had to go in and get you out.”

It takes Fingon a minute to process that.The ice?The lake.She must mean the lake.He went through—and she had to get him _out_?But Russ—and cold water—don’t mix.Not since—“are you _okay_?” he blurts, struggling round to look at her, though she’s trying to hold him still.“Holy shit, Russ!”

She stares at him.“Am _I_ — _Fin_ —you could have _drowned_ , you haven’t even started shivering, you—”She clamps her lips together and inhales, clearly trying to center herself.“Yes, I’m okay,” she says gently and kisses his forehead.“Now can you lie still and let yourself warm up?There should be an ambulance or something on the way.”

“‘M plenty warm,” Fingon mumbles, but it’s not like he’s going to complain about having his naked back pressed into what feels like the naked front of his favorite person.Might get a little awkward if there is an ambulance, but presumably that’s the kind of thing they’ve seen before anyway.And Russ isn’t wrong; he still feels kind of weird.“Sorry for worrying you,” he manages, with a sleepy yawn.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t anyone’s fault.”Russ kisses him gently on top of the head.“You’re going to be fine, Fin.Everything’s going to be okay.I promise.”

* * *

Coffee and donuts are nice.Turgon clutches the shitty styrofoam cup and lets it warm up his hands and tries very hard not to start crying again in public.He’s still not sure how he feels about Maglor, but at least Russ’s brother seems to be trying really hard, and he keeps being so damn _nice_ in a way that Turgon doesn’t really feel like he deserves.

“Oh, shit,” Maglor says, looking up.He has a smear of jam on his nose from the donut, and it is just so _irritating._ How is he so careless and still so damn attractive?

Wait, what?

“We need to call your parents,” Maglor says, sounding harried.“No, scratch that. _I_ need to call your parents.”

“What?” Turgon gets out.“What do you mean?”

“Well, otherwise they’re going to get here and drive right down to the cabin, and what are they going to find when they’re out of cell reception?”

“Oh.Oh, shit.”He fumbles out his phone, and Maglor puts a hand over his.

“Let me do it,” he says.

“They’re _my_ parents!”

“Yeah, exactly.And you’re already upset.”

“So are you!”Turgon pulls his phone back and glares.

“Yeah, I am,” Maglor says, his voice wobbling very slightly.“Because I just got dumped and this whole day has been a _mess_ from beginning to end.But which of us is going to tell your parents ‘I killed my brother’ and start crying and which of us is just going to tell them what happened with no theatrics?”

Turgon opens his mouth, scowls, and pushes the phone back to Maglor.“Thanks,” he mutters.

“No problem.”Maglor’s other hand falls onto his wrist, an oddly steadying gesture.He uses his other hand to unlock and open the phone, scrolling through the contacts so effortlessly it doesn’t even occur to Turgon to fret about privacy.Well, it _does_ , but only after Maglor has already lifted the phone to his ear, so maybe now isn’t the time.

“Hi, Mr. Harper?Sorry, it’s not Turgon, it’s Maglor Kanesada.I’m calling from Turgon’s phone.No, he’s fine, he’s just a little anxious right now.”

“I should be talking to them,” Turgon hisses, and Maglor squeezes his hand, but he doesn’t hand over the phone.

“We had an accident on the lake.Fin fell in.No, I’m pretty sure he’s fine.Russ got him out really fast, and we already called 911, but since there’s no cell reception down at the cabin, I said I’d call.Mmhmm.Yeah.I will.Of course, Mr. Harper.Don’t worry.”Maglor sighs and hangs up.“Okay, they’ll be here in a few hours.As soon as we hear from Russ, we’re supposed to tell her to call them to give them an update.”

“You didn’t tell them it was my fault,” Turgon says in a small voice.

“Because it wasn’t.We’ve been through this already.”Maglor gives him a pleading look.“I’m trying to help, Turgon, really I am, but you’re right that I’m pretty upset, too.”

Turgon squeezes his eyes shut and tries to take a deep breath.“Fin’s going to be fine,” he tries.It doesn’t sound convincing at all.The feel of Maglor’s hand in his is comforting, at least.“Let’s just eat more donuts,” he says after a minute.

“Okay.”Maglor tries to take his hand away, and Turgon curls his fingers tighter.“Just…for a little longer?”

“Oh—sure.I can eat donuts one-handed.Not as well as Russ, maybe, but—”

A strangled noise comes out of Turgon’s throat and his eyes fly open.“How can you make _jokes_ about that?”

“Russ made most of them first?”Maglor shrugs.“It’s been like three years, man.She hates it when people treat her like it’s not just her normal.”

Well, when he puts it like that, it makes sense.It also makes Turgon feel like more of a heel, somehow, but maybe he can avoid making Mags deal with that as a thank-you for putting up with all the rest of his bullshit.“Right,” he mumbles.“One-handed donuts.Okay.”

They eat and drink in silence for a little while, and then Maglor’s phone goes off.He shakes his hand free to answer it, grabs it and says, voice high and tight, “It’s Russ.”

Turgon bites his lip so hard he thinks it goes numb as Maglor picks it up.

“Hi, big sib!”A moment of listening, and the tension drains out of Maglor’s body language.“Okay.Okay, great.Do you know if you’re staying overnight?”He nods.Turgon hears Maedhros’s voice, but he can’t make out the words.“All right.Call me if you need anything else.”He hangs up the phone and flops forward across the table.“It’s okay.They took Fin and Russ to the hospital.Fin’s a little hypothermic, but he’s not in danger.Russ isn’t sure if they’re going to have him stay overnight or not yet.She doesn’t think so, though.”

Turgon squeezes his eyes together against a fresh flood of tears.“He’s okay?Really?” he croaks.

“Yeah.See?You didn’t kill your brother.”Maglor presses his face into his arms, laughing a little hysterically.“Shit.”He’s shivering.“ _Shit_.”

Why is he reacting like this?Everything’s _okay_.It’s _okay_.And Russ wasn’t in danger, anyway.“Uh…are you all right?What’s wrong?”

“Reaction,” Maglor chokes out.“Needed to keep it together and now I don’t.”

“You…but you said you weren’t worried.”Turgon’s thoughts seem to be working slowly.

Maglor gives him a crooked smile.“I lied.”

“It wasn’t even…your brother?”

“For fuck’s sake, Turgon, did it ever occur to you that we’ve known each other for years?Fin’s my _friend_.You are so _stupid_ sometimes.”

He squirms.“Sorry.I guess…you’re right.”Fin is _all right_.Turgon didn’t kill his brother.He swallows and bites his lip.“I’ll drive us back to the cabin, then, okay?”

Sniffing and wiping his eyes, Maglor sits back.“Are you sure you’re up for that?”

Slipping out of his seat, Turgon comes around to lay a hand on Maglor’s shoulder.“It seems like the least I can do.”

“And this has _nothing_ to do with how annoyed you’ve been that I offered to do the driving?”

“Hey, I’m trying to be nice!” Turgon scowls.“But, uh, thanks for—everything.”

“We’re friends, too.I think.”Maglor squints at him.“If you want to be.”

“I’ll try.As long as you don’t put on any more Wagner this vacation.”

“Fine, I’ll stick to Mozart.”

* * *

It’s late at night when Maedhros and Fingon get back to the cabin, driven by Mr. Harper.The lights are, unsurprisingly, all on.Maedhros helps Fingon out of the car, despite Fin’s protestations that he feels completely fine, and then she bundles them both inside, getting out of the relentless chill of the wind as fast as possible.She doesn’t need to have any more nightmares than she’s already going to.

Turgon, Maglor, Aredhel, and Anairë are in the kitchen having hot chocolate, and there are three more steaming mugs waiting for the new arrivals, piled high with whipped cream and marshmallows.Maglor and Turgon both look particularly exhausted, but they’re sitting closer to one another than Maedhros was expecting, their body language open and relaxed in a way it hasn’t been all day.

“Oh, hell yes!” Fingon exclaims when he sees the hot chocolate.“I’m stealing yours, too, Russ!”

“You can have as much hot chocolate as you want,” Maedhros tells him, pulling him close again and kissing the top of his head.

“I was joking.”Fin shoves her.“You’ve had a worse day than I have, and don’t argue.I don’t want this to turn into misery poker.”

Maedhros has to laugh at him.“I love you,” she murmurs quietly, and she steers him over to the table so they can sip their hot chocolate.Fingon snuggles into her, wrapping himself around her. 

“So are you guys okay?” he asks the others.

“It’s certainly been a day,” Anairë says with a sigh.“I would have expected this from Aredhel, not you, Fin.”

“Hey!” Aredhel protests.

“It wasn’t Fin’s fault!” Turgon protests.Maedhros watches with interest as her little brother elbows Fingon’s hard enough in the ribs that he winces.“I mean, it was an accident.None of us—”

“It was just really bad luck,” Maglor agrees.“The snowfall was so heavy that none of us could see the lake.But we’ll be more careful in the future.”

“I should _hope so_!” Anairë frowns.“You worried the hell out of us, Fin.”

“Sorry,” Fingon tells his mother.“Really.”

“Just don’t do it again, son,” says Fingolfin.“And—” he pauses for an instant, his gaze sweeping across Maglor and Maedhros.“I’m just grateful we had you two boy—ah, sorry.You two siblings here to help.”

It always gives Maedhros a little lump in her throat when someone mistakes her gender and then corrects themself without making a big deal out of it and moves on.She cuddles closer to Fingon.“Have I mentioned your dad rocks?” she whispers to him.

“He’s pretty great,” Fingon agrees.He kisses her on the cheek.“Most of my family is tolerable at least.”He laughs, and Maedhros thrills to it, because there was that one horrible moment when she thought she’d never hear it again.“So,” he frowns and then yawns.“We should probably be getting to bed soon, huh.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Maedhros and Anairë and Fingolfin all say at the same time.

“I’m fine, honestly,” Fingon tells them.“Just—” he yawns again, “—very tired.”

“Which means you should sleep,” Maedhros agrees.“Come on, finish your cocoa and let’s go to bed.”She looks over at Maglor and Turgon.“Do we need to shuffle up sleeping arrangements?” she asks.She really doesn’t want to sleep without Fin, but if she has to—

“Nope,” Turgon says quickly.“It’s all good.”Maglor shoots him a sideways glance but doesn’t say anything.At least Turgon seems to have stopped behaving like a little shit.Most of the time, Maedhros doesn’t have a problem with Fingon’s little brother—that mess with Fin’s orientation notwithstanding—but he’s been pretty insufferable today.

“Thanks, Turgon,” Fin says, squeezing Russ’s hand as if he knows what she’s thinking.“Then let’s get to bed.”

* * *

Maglor isn’t sure of the last time he had such an exhausting day, and he’s not looking forward to spending the night on the goddamn pullout trundle bed, but he also doesn’t really want to ruin the tentative truce he and Turgon seem to have struck up.For the past few hours, Turgon has actually been reasonable company.He was silent and fairly polite on the drive back to the cabin, and he offered to make hot chocolate for everyone.Which he did quite efficiently and with no trouble.So of course he ruins it as soon as the two of them shuffle wearily into his bedroom, flopping onto the bed and declaring, “Oh, god, I _am_ a terrible brother.”

“Didn’t we already have this conversation?” groans Maglor.“I just want to _sleep_.”

“You’re the one who wanted to sleep in my bedroom,” Turgon retorts.“I just.Fin nearly died and I’m _still_ jealous of his relationship with Russ?”

“Jesus Christ.”Maglor throws up his hands.“If I give you a blowjob, will you _shut up_?”

Turgon blinks at him from the bed, shocked out of whatever he was about to say, and his silence makes him _much_ more attractive, Maglor thinks sleepily, although he suspects Turgon would say much the same about him.

“I,” says Turgon.“Uh.Sure?”

Maglor didn’t really expect to be taken up on his offer, but honestly he’s not averse to it.The idea of sex sounds _great_ right about now, and god knows he isn’t going to be getting any for a while.“Cool,” he says, taking off his socks before he slides onto the bed and reaches for Turgon’s jeans, flicking them open with an ease borne of long practice.God, the bed is soft.He pushes Turgon’s t-shirt up so that he can get his mouth onto Turgon’s stomach—more toned than Daeron’s, actually, and a somewhat darker color.

“Wh—wait,” stutters Turgon, and Maglor pauses immediately, looking up at him, breathing in the scent of his sweat.“You—meant that?”

Maglor gives him an amused grin.“Ask anyone and they’ll tell you I’m the slut of the family.In a good way.Well, in a good way unless you ask Daeron, I guess.”That still stings.What’s the point of negotiating yourself into a poly relationship if the other person then gets mad at you for being poly, anyway?“It’s just a blowjob, Turgon, it’s not an everlasting declaration of affection.”

Almost to his surprise, Turgon chuckles at that, and his hand cards through Maglor’s hair in a way that makes Maglor just about melt beneath him.“Okay,” he says, still sounding a little unsure.“Um.Thanks?Is that the right thing to say?”

“I’m not sure there’s a ‘right’ thing to say,” Maglor murmurs, then whines as Turgon’s hand finds the back of his neck.

“Wow,” says Turgon.“I didn’t know you were so—”There are nails, and Maglor whines again, pressing his face into Turgon’s stomach and nuzzling.Turgon makes a surprised, breathy noise.“Oh, shit, Maglor,” he says, sounding awed and vaguely helpless, which is a much better tone of voice than he’s been employing for most of the day.“Oh, _shit_ —”

“Let me…” Maglor unzips Turgon’s jeans.“Help me get these off?”

“Um, yes, please,” Turgon agrees hurriedly, and he wriggles out of them eagerly, while Maglor lies dreamily on the very nice, very soft bed that he doesn’t get to sleep in and watches him. _Hell_ , he has a nice ass.Maglor can think of a lot of uses for an ass like that; it’s such a shame there’s normally no room for anything that isn’t the giant stick up it.He giggles at the thought, and Turgon gives him a bemused, slightly concerned look.

“Sorry, midnight thoughts,” Maglor tells him.“Now come here and let me get my head between your legs.”

Nice cock, too: a little on the short side but thick and aesthetically pleasing.He’s not circumcised like Maglor.There’s already precum beading from the tip, and when Maglor makes a show of swiping his tongue across his bottom lip, it twitches and Turgon says hoarsely, “Can you just—maybe—already—?”

“Sorry,” Maglor murmurs, taking him lazily in hand.He strokes up and down a few times, listening to the eager breathy noises Turgon makes and watching the way he thrusts up into Maglor’s hand, then before Turgon can protest that he’s being too slow, wriggles forward and takes him in his mouth.

Maglor has an oral fixation; he’s known this for at least five years now.He really likes having something in his mouth, and the thick slide of Turgon in there is enough to take him from half to full hardness as well.“Shit, Mags,” Turgon breathes, his hand falling onto Maglor’s head and tightening in his hair.He thrusts upward, and Maglor has to readjust himself hurriedly to avoid gagging.He suspects Turgon isn’t super experienced, because he hasn’t checked how Maglor feels about mouth-fucking, but luckily for him Maglor is very _much_ about having his mouth fucked, so he gets a knee under himself and moves slightly above Turgon so that it’s easier.Then he sucks harder, and Turgon moans desperately, tugging at Maglor’s hair, his other hand coming to rest ineffectually on Maglor’s shoulder.“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ —that’s so _good_ , holy _shit_ , your mouth feels amazing—”

Maglor moans around his cock.He can feel tears starting at the corner of his eyes as Turgon keeps moving, desperate, arrhythmic, slightly abortive motions.It’s fun to watch Turgon coming apart, particularly after the day they’ve had, and Maglor definitely isn’t averse to preening at praise over his oral abilities.Or anything, he admits, as Turgon gasps, “Okay, okay, I’ll take like fifty hours of Wagner for this, Jesus Christ, Maglor—”

He’s shuddering and arching off the bed; based on his performance thus far, Maglor isn’t really expecting much of a warning, but Turgon tugs frantically at his hair and manages, “I’m—I’m gonna—”

Maglor pats his thigh to say, _I don’t mind_ , and Turgon whimpers and comes in his mouth, then flops limply back onto the bed and says, “Holy fucking _shit_ , Maglor.”

Maglor swallows and wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand, posing for a moment to watch the way Turgon’s dark eyes follow him, and then starts to head for the fold-out bed, because he may be rock hard at this point but he’s also exhausted.A hand catches his wrist and he looks back.

“Don’t,” Turgon mumbles.“Look, I know I was mad about you coming along, but you’ve been amazing today, and I’ve been a dick, and I’m sorry, and just get into the bed with me, okay?And let me jerk you off?”

Well.Maglor’s not going to say no to that—not to the comfortable bed and not to the handjob either.He kicks off his own jeans and slips with Turgon under the covers, wriggling back against him.Turgon determinedly slips a hand down between his thighs and, to Maglor’s surprise, very gently starts to work at his cock.The next instant Maglor is melting and moaning because those are Turgon’s _lips_ on the _back of his neck_ , holy _shit_ , how did Turgon figure out what he’s like about his neck from, like, three seconds of heavy petting?“You like that, uh, baby?”Turgon sounds so fucking _awkward_ about it, but he’s being so sweet that Maglor doesn’t have the heart to make fun of him and he isn’t really currently verbal anyway so he just whines and nods and thrusts into Turgon’s hand until he’s climaxing too, the tightness of the whole long nightmarish day unspooling in his chest along with the bright warmth and bone-deep pleasure.

“We should get cleaned up,” he hears Turgon mumble, but he’s too warm and too tired and his brain gives up before he can really process any more anyway.

* * *

_He’s caught again, and the water is rising.He can still see the flash of red hair and green eyes; he can still feel the way the car slewed and rolled.He can still feel the impact.He’s freezing.He’s trapped.His right hand is stuck, and no matter how he tries, he can’t yank it free._

_And now he’s stood poor Maglor up for coffee.Somehow he can’t stop thinking about that._

_He’s going to die, isn’t he?_

“Russ! _Russ_!”Maedhros gasped and thrashes.His right arm is numb, and he’s shaking as he rolls sideways.He almost falls out of the bed before Fin catches him and pulls him back.That’s right.Fin’s here.He’s in the cabin.They’re both safe.But he can still feel the horrible icy chill of the water from the day before and from three years ago at the same time.

“I think—I’m going—to throw up,” he gets out, and that’s not _fair_ , look at what Fin just went through—but Fingon is moving rapidly.He’s out of the bed and into the next room and then he’s back with a basin to shove into Maedhros’s lap, and he’s holding it steady as Maedhros’s stomach turns over.Hot chocolate doesn’t taste nearly as nice going the other way.

“Sorry,” Maedhros gasps, his eyes and throat stinging.

“Hey.Hey, it’s fine.I’m fine and you’re fine.It’s not like this hasn’t happened before, love.”He’s rubbing circles into Russ’s back.

“Last time it happened, _you_ weren’t recovering from nearly dying,” Maedhros points out shakily.He puts the basin aside so he can pull Fingon into his lap and wrap himself around his boyfriend.

“Okay, but I am not really surprised that you having to pull me out of an iced-over lake brought up a few bad memories,” Fingon said quietly.He gave Maedhros a shaky smile.“I don’t want to say we have _matching_ PTSD now, but—”

Maedhros snorts at him.“Next winter let’s go to California for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Fingon agrees.“I don’t think cold weather agrees with us.”He wriggles around in Maedhros’s lap and kisses him on the lips, despite the fact that Maedhros just threw up.Then he presses their foreheads together.“You’re my hero, you know that?You saved my life.”

“I couldn’t lose you.”Maedhros breathes in Fingon’s breath.Morning breath, but his is probably worse.“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.And you’ve saved me a time or two as well.”

“Haha, I guess that’s true.”Fingon snuggles into him.“I love you, Russ.I’m so glad you’re here with me.”

“I never want to be anywhere else.”

Fingon interlaces their fingers, then takes the naked stump of Maedhros’s right hand and kisses it delicately.“You know,” he says, and he’s so close that Maedhros can feel the heat of his face even if the blush is mostly invisible.“We could make that happen.”

It takes a minute for Maedhros to process his words.“A-Are you _proposing_?” he stammers.

“I, um, was going to wait till later in the week, and I didn’t really plan on, uh, all of yesterday, so if you think you can’t think clearly right now—I can ask again later.”

“You should ask again later,” Maedhros tells him, “but not because I’m not going to say yes.I just want to hear you ask me to _marry you_ again, holy shit, Fin.”

Fingon bites his lip and nestles against Maedhros.“I would love to ask you again.Maybe three or four times, over the course of the vacation.”

“Do I get a chance to ask you, too?”

“Oh, hell yes.”Fingon kisses him.“God, I love you, Russ.”Then he yawns and scoots sideways.“I guess we might as well get up.You probably want to brush your teeth.Oh—pronouns?”

“Let’s go with he/him for now.”

“Got it.”Fingon melts against him.“My beautiful boyfriend.”

“Your beautiful _fiancé_ ,” Maedhros corrects him, choking up a little as he does.“Yes, let’s get up and get some breakfast.”

* * *

Turgon keeps dreaming that he’s in a jungle.It’s hot and damp and unpleasant, and it’s not until one of the monkeys starts chattering at him and insistently elbowing him in the chest that he blinks his eyes open to realize he’s too warm because he’s never shared a bed with anyone else, he’s curled up at Maglor’s back, and Maglor is thrashing and whimpering.

Okay, this is—weird.Turgon doesn’t know what the etiquette is if you wake up next to someone you kind of sort of did not like until they were desperately kind when you thought you’d killed your brother and then you _had sex_ —but friendly sex, right?not romantic sex?he’s not sure—and then you, right, _wake up next to them_ (is that romantic?does he want it to be romantic? help), and they’re—oh, wait, it looks as if Maglor is having a nightmare.He does have a feel for the etiquette for that.He scoots back, because his sister, at least, has been known to punch him in the face for waking her up, and shakes Maglor’s shoulder.“Hey, Maglor, wake up, you’re dreaming.”

Maglor shudders, a full body shudder, and goes still.Unsure, Turgon moves his hand to Maglor’s back.“Are you awake?” he asks.

“I th-think so.”Maglor sits up abruptly and pulls his knees into his chest, breathing hard.“I need to see Russ,” he says urgently.“I need to—I _need_ to see Russ.”

“You know he’s sleeping with Fin, right?You might walk in on something.”

“Don’t care,” mumbles Maglor.Then he straightens up.“Ugh, but she might be sleeping—can’t wake her up, but it won’t _help_ —”

“What’s _wrong_?” Turgon asks.“She was fine yesterday.So was Fin.You—you walked me through that whole thing.You were—”His throat closes up.“You were pretty—great,” he manages finally, even if he does sound stupid.

“I had—I had The Nightmare again?”Maglor’s voice is wobbling a little.“I guess probably because of what happened yesterday.”

“What’s that?” Turgon asks, his heart sinking a little.“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s stupid,” Maglor says in a small voice.“For _me_ to be having nightmares, I mean.How much did you know about the accident three years ago?”

Turgon shakes his head.“I know Fin was frantic?All they would tell me and Aredhel was that there had been a car accident and Maedhros was in the hospital, and there was a chance he—she—might not survive.We found out about the hand thing later.”

“She was driving to see me,” Maglor says, his voice thin and thready, his chest pumping in and out underneath Turgon’s hand.“I was having issues with my voice teacher and somehow that turned into an argument with Daeron and I stormed out and called her to pick me up and I’d buy her a coffee as a thank you.She didn’t show up when she said she would, and I tried to call her phone—” his words were getting faster and faster, tumbling over themselves, “—but she didn’t pick up, and I didn’t know what to do—I was so worried.And then _Mom_ called and told me—there had been an accident, and she and Dad were out of town so I had to get to the hospital because there wasn’t anyone else, and I—I called Daeron and fucking _begged_ , and—and when I got there.They—” He swipes his arm over his eyes, and when Turgon awkwardly, horrified, tries to rub at his back, he actually turns around and scoots into an embrace.“Sorry—is this okay?I just—it grounds me.”

“It’s fine,” Turgon tells him.“Jesus Christ.I didn’t know it was—”

Maglor sighs shakily.“I should be over it, it was three years ago.But I got to the hospital and he looked like he was _asleep_ but he wasn’t—wasn’t waking up—they said he’d been underwater for _forty-five minutes_ , while I was just checking the time and getting mad, and they said.He probably.Wouldn’t wake up.”

“Jesus.”How much did Turgon freak out yesterday when Fin was in the lake for less than two minutes?He can’t even _imagine_ what it must have been like.He hugs Maglor tightly.“But she did, and she’s _okay_.”

“Yeah,” Maglor says shakily.“Yeah.I just dreamed about it again.I dreamed about going down to the bridge and staring at the broken railing.I dreamed about turning on the bath as cold as I could and getting into it.”

“Did you _do_ that?”

“Shit.I didn’t mean to say that.”Maglor slumps.“Don’t tell anyone?Daeron’s the only other person who knows.”

“Yeah,” Turgon agrees.“Um.I mean.I won’t tell anyone.”

“It was.I don’t know why I did it.”He shivers again.“She’s fine, right?”

“She’s fine,” Turgon soothes him.“Wanna go out and have some hot chocolate and…uh…put on some Wagner?”

Maglor laughs at that, a little shakily.“We can try to find some music we both like, you know.Holiday music, maybe.We can switch off between Christmas and Hannukah songs or something.Also I think I’d better have coffee.”

“Sure.”

They wander out into the main room still in their pajamas.Maglor doesn’t seem inclined to stop touching Turgon, so Turgon lets him.He deserves it after everything.And Turgon isn’t exactly _averse_ to it.They’re the first ones up, so the two of them start making coffee and hot chocolate.After a little while, Aredhel shows up, gives them both a curious look, and snags a hot chocolate.Then she says, smugly, “I heard noises last night from your room, Turno.What were you doing?”

“Um, sleeping, what do you think?” Turgon shoots back, feeling his face go hot.Maglor chokes into his coffee.

“ _Sleeping_ , huh?”She grins.“I thought you two hated each other.”

“Of course not,” Maglor retorts.“Turgon hates _me_ , I don’t hate _him_.”

Turgon sighs.The last thing he needs is them ganging up on him.“I don’t hate you, I just hate your taste in music.”

Things are just about to take a turn for the extremely awkward, judging by the glint in Aredhel’s eye, when Fin and Russ appear, looking sleepy and as soppy as ever.Neither of them seems any the worse for their adventure the day before.“Morning all,” Fingon says cheerfully, and Maglor untwines himself from Turgon to jump up.

“Russ, can I have a hug?” he asks, sounding pathetic.

Maedhros laughs.“Okay, brat.C’mere.” Maglor catapults himself into his sibling’s arms.Turgon, who doesn’t really do the touching thing all that much, finds himself looking over at Fingon anyway.

“Uh.”He clears his throat.“Sorry for being an asshole yesterday.”

“Are you also asking for a hug, little brother?” Fingon demands happily.

Turgon scowls.“Maybe,” he mutters. 

“Ask and ye shall receive.”Fingon comes over and gives him a rough hug.“How about we just play video games today, no hikes.”

“Yeah,” Turgon agrees shakily, patting his brother’s back awkwardly.“That sounds good.” _And you never know, maybe when Fin and Russ slip off very obviously to have sex, I can convince Maglor he wants to try something similar_.He looks over at Maglor, who looks back and smiles and gives him a wink, as if he knows exactly what Turgon is thinking.

Turgon blushes and looks down.Maybe it’s not going to be the worst vacation in memory, after all.


End file.
